The Emperor's New Move
by Kateface87
Summary: The answers she craved were whether accepting the job would be a safe thing to do, and if she was qualified enough to actually become a Court Mage. Instead, Leo simply sounded like one of those sickening sentiments found cross-stitched upon a motivational wall-hanging. (Based on the WoB).
1. The Offer

Vector lay in ruins. From the steps of the Imperial Palace, Terra Branford watched the skeletal remains of buildings collapse upon themselves. Buildings, trees, people, were all swallowed up by the blaze. She squinted against the dancing flames, her shaking hand shielding her eyes. Buildings, trees, people… men, women, children… As the magnitude of the tragedy slowly sank in, Terra made a convulsive motion, halfway between a cry and a retch. Smoke circled upwards and inked in the sky, creating artificial night.

"Terra?"

Terra swung around, removing her hand from where she had clapped it over her mouth in shock.

"Banon!" she blurted out, after a moment's shocked silence. "Banon – you're alive!" The Returners' leader stood at the top of the steps which led to the Imperial Palace, resplendent in his green robes. His tangled mane of auburn hair and beard bristled in the wind. If ever there was a poster for victory, Banon would certainly have featured on it. The other Returners advanced the steps to greet their leader. Locke brought up the rear, panting in exhaustion.

"Terra… always charging off into… must have a… death-wish…"

Edgar strode forward and clasped Banon's hand warmly.

"Still in one piece," he cracked with his characteristically-charming smile, "and clearly you and the others have done a fantastic job of clearing up the Empire's soldiers. I take it this is our palace now?" Edgar seemed to scrutinise the towering building seriously for a moment, a glint of pleasure in his eyes. "Sabin, I'll give you Figaro Castle as a thank you if you help me move my-"

"Actually," Banon interrupted the young king, "the Emperor is still alive. He has taken refuge with his people inside the palace. But he very much wants to speak with you." Terra tried to convince herself that Banon was using the collective 'you,' however his crinkled eyes were solely trained on her. She stared down at her boots uncomfortably for a moment, and then without looking up, unsuccessfully attempted to reassure herself.

"Me…?"

"Yes," Banon quipped without missing a beat, "he wants to speak with you, Miss Branford."

Terra continued to stare down at the ground and fiddle with a jewel-encrusted bangle on her left wrist nervously. She could scarcely describe the tangled mixture of feelings she had towards Emperor Gestahl. When she pictured the old autocrat with his wizened features and long facial hair, she saw a man who had terrified her with his austerity and, at the same time, a man who had raised her like a princess. For her, he had been her father, her king, her commander… but also the man that had signed her parents' death sentences.

"Terra, are you okay?" Locke's gloved hand gave her bare shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "we can go. Just say and we'll go back to the ship."

Terra's eyes glanced from face to face. Secretly, she cherished her friends for being so protective of her, but deep down she worried about their motives for sticking with her through all of this. Perhaps they had their own personal reasons, but Terra couldn't shake the fear that they were backing her as the winning piece in a highly-dangerous, global game of chess. Her mind drifted back to the evening she had spent at Figaro castle. If only she had gone straight to bed instead of lingering on the stairs, eavesdropping. That was when she heard Edgar tell Locke…

_"Whichever side has her, that's the winning side. If the Empire get her back, we won't stand a chance. Save Terra; save the world."_ Edgar could have been talking about one of his tools, rather than a human being.

No. She would not rely on them to save her. She would save herself. Or die trying, and die alone too. Everyone dies alone.

"I'll go," Terra announced, rearranging her face into what she hoped was a look of sheer determination. She strode forward to the great iron doors and shot two unfamiliar-looking Returners such a look of assumption that they rushed forward to open them for her.

Behind her, Terra could hear the echoing footsteps of her friends as they followed her along a cold, metallic corridor decorated with red carpets and banners, all of which bore the gold, Imperial seal. There were indeed guards inside the palace still, but obviously they had been informed of the Returners' arrival. At each set of huge, double doors, another pair of soldiers would rush forward and push them open. Not once did any of them comment or even look suspiciously at the mis-matched band of individuals who strode through the palace's halls: a young king, a burly-looking monk, a thief in poor man's clothing, a scrawny, wild-haired teenager who galloped on all fours, a thick-haired knight with a look of permanent disdain for his surroundings etched onto his features and a tottering man dressed in a grubby overcoat, all led by the Empire's prodigal daughter.

When they had at last reached the throne room and the final set of doors had been opened for them, Terra looked back to her friends for one last nod of reassurance, before she stepped forward.

"Lady Branford!" Gestahl announced, clapping his hands as if in long-awaited joy. Terra had extensive experience of the emperor's erratic behaviour and knew to take his compliments and criticisms with a generous pinch of salt. He was much accustomed to playing favourites, and apparently Terra had toppled Kefka for this so-called prize.

Gestahl rose from his golden throne. Behind him three huge, red banners read: _Conformity, Justice, Determination_, each decorated with the iconic Imperial seal of a long-stemmed plant, not entirely unlike a fleur-de-lis. Behind Gestahl were three familiar-looking figures, all of whom had been impeccably trained to rise to their feet in unison.

Generals Leo Christophe and Celes Chere were both dressed in the green, gold-lined cloaks which signified their esteemed army ranking. Terra could hardly believe how different Celes looked now from the last time she had seen her in Narshe. Celes' long, blonde hair hung loose, only held away from her face by two, tiny plaits which had been woven behind her ears. She wore thick gloves, polished armour plates, and such heavy, laced boots that she almost stood to Leo's height. Around her waist was slung a strong belt and sheath, which housed a fearsome-looking broadsword. There was barely any resemblance to the young girl who had encouraged Terra up the snowy mountainside and who had told her the little she had understood about love. This wasn't Celes, this was General Chere a.k.a The Ice Queen. Oh, and didn't she seem to know it? Terra stole a quick glance at Locke, whose jaw was set grimly. She wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.

Between Leo and Celes stood Professor Cid. Cid had obviously been at work in the labs as usual, for his hair was plastered over his head and his glasses still seemed slightly steamed-up from where he had been wearing his radiation suit. Again, in unison and with the precise timing of clockwork toys, the three Imperial servants bowed to their master. Terra twitched as if to do the same, more of an old habit rather than any lingering loyalty, but then found her body was locked by some unspoken act of rebellion. She looked Gestahl coldly in the face, a mingled combination of pride and fear making her hands and feet tremble. Then much to her shock, Gestahl bowed to _her_.

"Welcome home, my dear Terra," Gestahl said kindly, once the four of them were once again standing to their full height. "Please, take a seat. I have much I want to say to you."

Terra found she was frozen to the spot. She opened her mouth to reply, and instead she made a sigh of affirmation and walked up onto the dais which bore the throne, a few smaller chairs which certainly had the ambition of being thrones, and a long table with perfectly ordinary chairs behind it. Terra and her companions took up most of the seats around the table, with Gestahl and his loyal subjects sitting opposite them. Gau started to crawl under the tablecloth, before Sabin yanked him out by the leg.

"Such a splendid array of guests," Gestahl stated, his voice still warm with pleasure. Ignoring Sabin, who was now scolding Gau for sitting on the floor licking himself, the emperor continued. "I do hope you will find your stay here comfortable. I have ordered a selection of Vector's finest dishes to be served from our kitchens in celebration of your visit."

Terra pushed a few strands of loose, mint-green hair from her face in frustration. Outside these walls a city lay in ruins, choked with fire and smoke and welding an unimaginable death toll, and here Gestahl was too busy thinking about the dinner menu to organise rescue services or relief for the survivors. Edgar saw Terra's hands start to shake again, this time in anger.

"Terra, don't-"

But it was too late. Terra's hands formed into fists and slammed down onto the table top, her bangles jangling noisily.

"How - can you talk about food - at a time like this?!" Terra's voice came out broken and emotional. She hastily wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure before she could continue her point. Gestahl watched her pityingly and took one of her hands between two of his wrinkled claws.

"Terra," he soothed, "it's okay." Terra took a great gulp of air which caught noisily in her throat and tried to return to her line of attack.

"It's not okay!" she hissed, withdrawing her hand spitefully, "there are people out there!" She pushed her chair back noisily and flung an arm out towards the great, arched window beside them. Although they were quite a distance from the city at this height, coils of smoke could still be seen rising and obscuring the sunlight outside.

"Terra… there _were_ people out there," Gestahl said sadly, bowing his head so that his long moustache drooped all over the table, "our city and its people have been lost."

Cyan eventually broke the stunned silence; "you mean… there were positively no survivors?"

"Only those that made it to the palace in time," Getashl confirmed, still looking solemnly down at the table.

"We did organise a rescue effort," Leo explained in his clipped, precise voice, "Celes and I grouped who was left in our regiments and scoured the city. The flames were out of control however, and we retreated rather than put our soldiers at further risk."

"The laboratory and Magitek factory were badly hit," Cid continued. He stared into space, and a glazed look came over him, almost as if he was haunted by something unspeakable. "I have never seen Espers in the wild before. I mean to say, I have never beheld them without restraints or sedation. If I had known what they are actually capable of… I…" Cid ran his tongue across his teeth in thought, then shook his head at his own loss for words.

"Today is dark day in the Empire's history," Gestahl mourned, "which is why it is so important to me that we celebrate the one good thing to emerge from these tragic and devastating events; the end of the Magitek war."

Edgar, Cyan and Sabin all made similar sounds of exclamation. Terra silently slid back into her seat. Locke, however, was never afraid to blurt out what was on his mind.

"So, you're calling it off?"

Gestahl leaned back in his chair and surveyed the Returners over his long, arched fingertips. "If by that, Mr-"

"Cole."

"Mr Cole. If you mean are we "calling off" our global invasion, then yes. Quite simply, our pursuit for the Espers' power was a misguided obsession of mine, driven by greed. It is only now that I have realised quite how terrifyingly destructive their powers are, that the whole conquest seems suicidal. Perhaps even omnicidal." He gave a breathy laugh, which almost sounded like a cough. "With power this horrific… well, no good can come of it. Who could summon the strength to control such abilities? Who would want to?"

Terra frowned at the old emperor, uncertainty gnawing at her insides. She folded her arms defensively across her lap.

"Why do you want us here…?" Terra tried slowly, regretting the question as soon as she had asked it.

"Just as I declared war upon the world, I am now bound to declare peace," Gestahl replied, bowing his head once more. "I need to know that peace can be upheld between _us_."

"So… you're asking for a truce?" Edgar asked, his blue eyes widened in surprise. "You want us to hang up our weapons, and you hang up your weapons, and we forget the whole thing?" At that Cyan leapt furiously to his feet.

"I will never forget!" he cursed, his thick, dark brows furrowed with rage, "I will never, _ever_ forget what you, you low-lives did with your dirty tactics-"

"I will never forget either," the emperor replied in a voice barely above a whisper. His old, wrinkled eyes were glassy with emotion. "I am so sorry for all the atrocious acts of violence that have been committed in my name. None of them amounted to anything… for nothing was to be gained, only destroyed." He stood and motioned for his three loyalists to do the same.

"We hereby stand, pronounced guilty by the Emperor of the Southern Continent, of genocidal war crimes. The choice is, Returners, whether you would gladly put us and the tiny population who remain here to death in the name of justice. Or will you help us to rectify this most awful mistake and return the world to balance?"

Amazed by this proposition, Cyan also slowly sank back down into his chair. He stroked his short beard thoughtfully, although his eyes seemed to light up at the emperor's suggestion of "justice." Terra looked around to see Edgar exchanging a private word with his brother, and Locke desperately trying to catch Celes' eye. Setzer was tilting his chair back as far as it would possibly go, his stare boring a whole into the ceiling. Again, she took her cue to speak.

"Emperor… if we were to help you fix all this… where would we even start?" Terra asked uncertainly.

"I would be… most honoured and humbled, if we could announce the peace declaration together." Gestahl's voice trembled with the emotion of a man who was seeking his last chance for survival. "It is vital that the Espers know that we no longer pose a threat to them. They will listen to you Terra. Until they do, the world will continue to be in danger." Terra chewed on her lip, slowly absorbing the old man's words. However, the next thing Gestahl said completely threw her off-guard.

"Terra, I want you to work with us, not just as a Magitek Knight – but as my Court Mage."

Terra felt the words fall clumsily into her mind, as if they were blunt objects devoid of all meaning. Court Mage.

"You want me to replace Kefka?" she gasped finally, "but why?"

"Kefka has been detained in the palace prison," Gestahl explained. "He doesn't understand the concept of 'peace' and became very upset about my change of heart." There was a sudden clatter as Sabin had to leap up and grab Cyan who was already making headway towards the door. The monk threw himself between Cyan's shoulder-blades and sent the pair sprawling down the last few steps.

"Cyan! Calm down he's _in prison_, there's nothing we can do at the moment," Sabin tried to explain soothingly, while pinning Cyan's arms behind his back and pressing his knee into the knight's spine. Cyan struggled, howling and spitting some very unknightly death threats into the red carpet.

"Terra?" Terra jumped at the sound of her name, as she and the others tore their gaze away from the racket ensuing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Um…" she expressed, with no fixed idea of what the rest of her sentence was about to contain. Finally she settled with; "can I have some time to think?" Gestahl nodded, his extravagant white moustache and beard billowing before him as he raised his arms in a benevolent gesture to the whole room.

"Take some time. Please make yourselves at home in the palace. To us, you are now our allies. Speak to the other men, form your opinions. We shall dine at seven this evening, if you care to join us. I… do hope you will support our new cause and help us to champion world peace." Gestahl's voice had taken on the pompous, booming quality which he used to give his speeches (although these were more often than not declaring world domination, rather than peace). "If you decide to fight and finish us, so be it. We have so little left to lose."

Terra could have sworn she saw a tear fall from the old man's eye into his long, snowy beard. He strode slowly away from the gathering, his hands clasped behind his back and dark robes trailing behind him. Leo stood and shook hands firmly with each of the Returners.

"This must seem very strange to you, but I hope you will consider Emperor Gestahl's offer," he said, offering a small smile of encouragement. He took Terra's hand last.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Terra." Terra froze, uncertain as to whether Leo was about to kiss it. However, she relaxed as he let go and followed the emperor down the steps. Cid murmured his goodbye, mostly to himself, before joining Leo in side-stepping around Sabin, who had almost succeeded in subduing his grieving friend. Only Celes swept from the room in silence. She had neither spoken, nor even looked at any of her former comrades the entire time.

Sabin stood and, taking Cyan by his arm, helped hoist the Doman to his feet. Cyan turned away, wiping a mixture of tears and saliva from his face.

"I must apologise Sir Sabin; my behaviour was entirely un-called for. I just heard the name 'Kefka' and – we Domans have a saying – sometimes a person can 'see red.'" Sabin smiled and gave Cyan a hearty pat on the back.

"Don't worry about it, pal," he said earnestly, "no one blames you for reacting the way you did." Cyan gave a great sniff, and folded his arms stoically.

"You see, when we say 'see red' it means a person can lose their composure. They become very angry, perhaps without being able to entirely justify why." Sabin's smile was fixed, and he had begun patting Cyan's back rather robotically.

"I get it, Cyan. We all do."

"Yes," Cyan continued without really listening, "I suppose, when one thinks about the origins of the saying, the colour 'red' is symbolic of anger, danger, blood-" Sabin exhaled slowly through his teeth.

"Like I said. I get it, Cyan."

Setzer, quite forgetting he was in the presence of the King of Figaro, elbowed Edgar in the ribcage and chuckled. "Boy your brother has the patience of a saint."

"Hello?" Locke interjected angrily, "why are we not discussing what just happened? What are we going to do?" He looked to his left for some support from Terra, but was alarmed to see she had vanished.

"Terra!" He looked all about himself, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Oh guys, I think we've lost her _again_."

Terra was indeed lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. She drifted through the corridors of the palace, hardly paying any attention to where her feet took her. She passed servants and soldiers, took flights of metal staircases and pushed against heavy doors. Eventually she began to take note of her route and realised she was walking towards the army barracks. A corridor led left to the soldiers' sleeping quarters, while a staircase on her right climbed upwards. Terra headed on up, her boots clanking against the rusty steps. She passed slightly more luxurious dormitories, some of which were designated for the commanding officers, and others which had been used to accommodate the surviving civilians who had fled the city.

Terra found herself at the top of the staircase and standing in a square-shaped hallway, adorned with tapestries and portraits. Two gigantic, arched windows embellished with beautiful stained glass threw shimmering multi-coloured rays of light onto the carpeted floor. Before her stood the four finest sleeping quarters in the palace, with the exception of the emperor's own chambers. Leo's rooms were to the left, a door to Kefka's chambers stood opposite, while the door just along from that one led to Celes' rooms. Opposite this door was the entrance to where Terra had lived for fourteen years.

Her hand grasped the door-handle. What would it feel like to return here? It had barely been a week since she had left this place, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Terra bit her lip again, deep in thought. Perhaps it _was_ a lifetime ago since she had lived here and had actually been aware of her surroundings. The continued use of the Slave Crown over the past five years had limited her consciousness. Even now when she tried to remember, all Terra found in the recesses of her mind was a flickering series of images, like an old film reel. And when she played through it, every other frame was still blank.

She turned the handle and walked through.

An extravagant, four-poster bed stood opposite the door, with red, chiffon curtains trailing from the bed posts up into a fixture on the ceiling. The bed had been made to exact standards, without a single crease in the sheets. At the foot of the bed sat a heavy-looking trunk. On the left side of the room stood a large bookcase filled with heavy-looking reading material. Next to this was a dark, mahogany wardrobe, and next to the door ticked a grandfather clock. On the right-hand side of the room was a piece of furniture halfway between a dressing table and a desk, and a huge, red urn. An arched window, covered in tiny criss-crosses looked out over the grounds behind the palace. A door to the left of her bed led to a bathroom. Another to the right led to a small lounge with a chaise-longue and almost an entire wall of books. Terra's eyes traced over the details; worked hard to recount the memories.

She began her investigation on the left side of the room. The grand-father clock held no secrets. Terra rifled through her old wardrobe and found one side held armour plates, helmets, shields, arm-guards, boots and several versions of the Imperial uniform. A dusty mirror hung on the inside of the door. She dropped a helmet onto her head and stared at herself through the thin visor. Magitek Knight. Terra lifted this off and threw it on the floor with a clang. On the floor of her wardrobe lay a dagger and a pair of nun chucks. She picked up the nun chucks and swung them around her head, nearly knocking a candle out of its bracket and setting fire to her room. Terra hastily put them back. She would keep to the sword; a weapon which she had much more practice with by now.

The other side of her wardrobe seemed to completely contradict her range of army attire, for there hung a range of luxurious dresses. Terra ran her hands across the different materials… chiffon, silk, velvet. Each gown seemed fancier than the next. She selected a silken number and held it against her form. It was the same unusual shade of violet as her eyes. Terra twirled, the beautiful dress flowing around her. When would she have worn this? Had she danced in this dress?

A vague scene of a hall filled with people entered her mind. Her stomach had been in knots as her eyes flew from face to face. They had all been watching. Then the faces began to blur into a wave of colour as she spun around faster and faster, like a tiny figurine trapped in a music box. Terra remembered her awkward, mechanical waltz; remembered being fearful of the emperor's critical gaze. _Remember the steps… remember how I practised them… don't make any mistakes… keep smiling… follow Leo's lead._

She hung the dress back in the wardrobe.

Terra ran a finger along the dusty spines of her books: _The Official Beast Diary Volumes I-IX, A History of Magic, The War of the Magi, The Combatant's Guidebook _and, quite out of place, _Tales of the Tonberry King_. Terra picked up the children's book and read the first two lines aloud to herself.

"Upon a hill sat Tom Tonberry, his pale yellow eyes, glowing like orbs. He looked towards the dark night's sky and sighed to himself." Terra froze. Although the voice started out as her own, in her mind it had transformed into a man's voice…

""Oh how will I prove my love to Tasmin?" he spoke into his hands…"

"Do the voices!" a young Terra had insisted, folding her tiny arms angrily across her chest, "you did the voices last time!" Her reader sighed.

"Tsk. Fine. "Oh_ how _will I prove my love to Tasmin?" he spoke into his hands, "I would fly to the moon and bring it back to her wrapped in a huge, silken bow if I could!"" There was a pause as Kefka turned the page. Terra could remember being snuggled up in her huge bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, and her stuffed moogle toy tucked into the crook of her arm. She closed her eyes as she listened. He was always so good at doing the different characters' voices.

"Charlie the Chocobo strode towards him, his golden feathers shining in the starlight. "_Waark! _What's wrong my dear friend, Tonberry Tom?" he asked, tilting his bright head to the side." Terra giggled at this. Kefka continued, switching between his soft, melodic tone and bird-like squawk with ease. "Oh Charlie, my sweet companion, Tamsin is never going to notice a pauper like me!" Okay you're asleep now, right kid?" Kefka jerked his head up hopefully. Terra opened one eye lazily.

"What's a _pauper_?"

Kefka sighed. "Y'see all those poor, smelly people cramming up Vector's streets? Those are paupers. Not like you and me. We're all high and mighty or whatever."

Back in the present, Terra slammed her favourite, childhood book shut in shock. Kefka used to read to her? That psychotic clown had been in her _room?_ She gave a huge, involuntary shudder and hurled the book at the book-case.

"Any other revelations around here…?" Terra muttered to herself as she continued to explore her old room. Buried between the pillows on her bed sat her beloved stuffed moogle, although now it bore a rather mocking smile, as if to say 'of course you didn't just make up that last memory! I'm real enough aren't I?'

Terra searched through the trunk at the end of her bed. Between the layers of clothing, her hands clasped around several glass vials. She discarded the potion and antidote, which were long out of date. The ether would keep for another month, so she slipped this into the small, beaded bag that was slung around her waist. The urn was upturned and Terra uttered a blood-curdling scream as a giant spider slid onto the floor. Before the creature even had the chance to demonstrate whether it was still alive, Terra had entombed the critter into a large block of ice. Wiping her damp hands hastily on her skirt, she considered where best to dump the frozen cube. A return to the urn seemed the best course of action. With the heaviest edition from _The Official Beast Diary_ series shoved on top for good measure.

Lastly she came to her table. On top of this sat a mirror which was hung with necklaces and smudged with traces of make-up. The desk bore bangles, beads, rings, jewels, sheets of paper and broken quills. Terra rifled through the items, glancing through history essays and homework she had completed on how standard spells worked and when to use them. She had evidently been trained as a killing machine, but it was strange how Gestahl had still attempted to raise her as a teenage girl to some extent.

Terra sank onto her bed with an exhausted sigh. Her hand found the golden locket that she wore around her neck. Stroking this precious item with her thumb, she considered the monetary value of the other pieces of jewellery on her dressing table. None could match the worth of her mother's heirloom. It was the only piece of her parents that existed in this world. She lay backwards against the crisp sheets, her fists balled into her eye-sockets to block out the sunlight that filtered into the room. _If she could just remember what they looked like… if she could see but one portrait of them…_ The earliest memory Terra had was sitting on the cold table in Cid's laboratory, her tiny, doll-like legs kicking in rhythm with her infantile humming. There came a soft clank of a door closing, then three men entered, all wearing gloves and masks. The traumatised four-year-old had flailed and lashed out, screaming at the top of her lungs. Glass went flying and something exploded, sending a terrified Terra clambering clumsily into a half-empty cupboard for shelter. In her wake, she had left a melted collection of glass vials and test tubes, a blackened set of scales and a stack of papers smouldering in the wreckage. From her cramped hiding place, Terra had craned her neck up to stare into Cid's awed face.

"I told you the masks were necessary," he was explaining to his team, after removing his own. "But goodness, have you ever seen such power? Incredible!"

Back in the present, an eighteen-year-old Terra lifted herself heavily to her feet. These memories were simply adding salt to her wounds. She would never piece together the entire puzzle of her story, and certainly none of this was paving the way forward to fixing the world. Miserably she forced herself from the room, dragging her boots along and scuffing the floor. Her squashed moogle toy dangled from her arm.


	2. Away On Leave

**This chapter's a bit shorter but I'll probably add to it a bit later! Don't feel too sorry for Terra, she's a big girl now. ^^**

Leo found Terra some time later, leaning against the window frame in the corridor outside her room, staring into space and absent-mindedly fluffing the red bauble that hung from the moogle's head.

"You always used to do that," he said warmly, folding his arms as he leant beside the window next to where she stood. Terra's unfocused eyes trained on him.

"What?" She dropped the moogle to her side as Leo gave a hearty laugh.

"I mean when you were little. You used to take that toy everywhere with you… and you'd talk to it and brush its fur. What was it you used to call him…?"

"Monty." The word fell from Terra's mouth automatically and she shook her heard in surprise. "Monty… where in the world did _that_ come from…?" Leo gave a low, throaty chuckle beside her.

"If you mean the toy… well, _I_ bought him for you. If you mean your memories… then they do have a funny way of finding their way back to you in the most unlikely places, and at the most improbable times." He unfolded his arms and tenderly placed a hand on Terra's red sleeve; his brown eyes suddenly filled with some unknown emotion.

"The Slave Crown reduces your conscious thoughts to nil. Prolonged use over time can gradually warp or erase memories. It can make a person lose their sense of self." Leo couldn't say anymore. His hand dropped down by his side and he turned away from her.

"I'm so sorry, Terra," he said managed quietly. Terra watched him silently. She had long lost the will to scream or cry over her misfortunes. Fate had simply dealt her a bad hand and she was bound to play the stack she had been given, regardless of how unfair, painful or frightening it would be. Despite what the old emperor had been harping on about peace, Terra knew that her role in sustaining the world's safety was her sole purpose and lifelong obligation. There was no alternative future that she could envisage.

"Emperor Gestahl wants to appoint me as his Court Mage," she spoke finally. Leo, who had been leaning heavily against the wall, shifted to face her once more. "What do you think I should do?"

Leo seemed to mull this over solemnly for a moment as he ran a hand roughly through his short, bristled, blonde hair. "I can't give you an unbiased answer on that one," he explained steadily, "but the best piece of advice I can give you, Terra, is to not let anyone sway your decision. This _has_ to come from you."

Terra felt a stab of irritation at Leo's words. The answers she craved were whether accepting the job would be a safe thing to do, and if she was qualified enough to actually become a Court Mage. Instead, Leo simply sounded like one of those sickening sentiments found cross-stitched upon a motivational wall-hanging. Silently admitting defeat, Terra gave an exasperated sigh and roughly handed Monty the Moogle back to the Imperial General.

"I wasn't trained to make decisions," she snapped, pushing her tousled hair out of her eyes irritably, "all I ever do is follow orders, so how Gestahl expects me to lead anyone is beyond me." Terra clenched her jaw, desperately flattening the emotion that was threatening to break her voice. "Thanks for the toy," she added shortly, "not that I remember you ever giving it to me." Terra made a performance of staring ahead blankly while tapping her forehead to show Leo what she meant, before turning on her heel and marching down the metal stair-case. She had made it about halfway down the short flight when Leo spoke.

"It was the last day of my leave. You were five years old. I was being deployed to Tzen and you begged me not to go." He was standing on the top step, leaning over the railing and looking down at Terra wistfully. Leo remembered the excitable, wild-haired girl who had eagerly asked to hear of his war stories. He had only been in his early twenties at the time and, as all other young impressionable soldiers, had been only too eager to share his zeal for fighting. Entranced by such bravery, a young Terra had run through the palace halls, enacting Leo's tales of victory by play-fighting with suits of armour until she had been reprimanded by the guards for causing such a racket.

Leo smiled at the memory. Terra's childhood had been a relatively happy one, for the Emperor had spared her the pain of knowing what had happened to her parents for as long as he possibly could. Of course, this didn't last. First came the questions, then the arguments, and finally she had attempted to escape the palace. After that, Terra was forbidden from going anywhere unattended. She was not allowed to argue, to speak out of turn or to hold an opinion on any topic. Eventually, she had been forbidden from thinking.

Feeling a lump rise in his throat, Leo swallowed hard and continued hastily. "I bought you the moogle and made you promise to take good care of him while I was gone." Terra, who had not moved once during the conversation, gave an audible sigh and leant on her crossed arms, over the railing. She buried her face in her red, laced sleeves and her tangled, green pony tail fell lightly over her face.

Desperately wishing away the pangs of guilt which plagued him, Leo distracted himself by extracting a beautiful, gold pocket-watch from inside his cloak and holding it up to the dimmed light. "There's still half an hour before dinner. We could walk to my office and have a cup of tea. Perhaps I can get Professor Cid to come along too, once he's finished talking to your friend about his airship, and we can give you some more answers about your past?" Terra lifted her head and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. As ever, Leo found himself transfixed by the rare violet hue of her eyes. It was the one feature that truly pronounced her to be _other-worldly_.

"I know what happened to my parents," Terra explained, almost half to herself. She counted out the points on her fingers as she spoke. "I remember Professor Cid… I know _of_ the experiments but I'd rather not remember them in detail. Then there's just fragments floating around in my mind, you know? Nothing I can pin down in detail." She felt compelled to say more, but some of the images disturbed her so much that to speak of them out-loud would have committed them to reality. Even so, Leo seemed to understand exactly what she meant without her having to use words. He nodded to himself several times, then flashed her a smile which was clearly masking a much darker emotion.

"Terra, I want to give you the answers you need, but I was sent away quite often. After I was promoted to Imperial General, I was on leave almost constantly. I wasn't there when…" He gestured blindly, struggling to find a delicate way to describe Kefka's horrific enslavement of Terra's mind. With a slow intake of breath, Leo quietly stepped down towards Terra, so they were only one metal stair apart.

"You should ask those who were there to see you grow up. Celes was acquainted with you…" Leo paused, fearing the response he would receive upon his next suggestion. "And there is Kefka too."

Terra's mouth hung open in silent outrage.

"And why would I ask _him_ anything? As if I could believe a word he says!" she exploded, her cheeks reddening.

"You'd be surprised, Terra," Leo tried consolingly, "he loves acting up to an audience, but he can be quite a different man in closer company. Stop by his cell later and if he says anything you're not comfortable with, inform me right away. Make sure you have a guard with you." He paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Two guards." Terra smiled meekly back at him.

"Um… I'm going to go find Celes then, if you want to walk with me."

The pair made their way back down the staircase, past the barracks and through to the palace's central corridor once more. Leo pointed to a smaller, side-door with a plain, square window. Beyond the glass Terra could see a splash of green, swirled with other pools of vibrant colours.

"Celes is in the grounds, by the rose garden, if you remember it? I'll escort you there anyway." He made to step forward, but glanced back at Terra briefly.

"Before you do accept the job, Terra, I think you should know that the elaborate clown costumes and make-up is mandatory," Leo warned in a serious voice. Terra widened her violet eyes in mock surprise.

"Well I should hope so, otherwise I'm certainly not interested."


End file.
